


I've Got You Under My Skin

by MotherGoddamn



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherGoddamn/pseuds/MotherGoddamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Rachel mysteriously swap bodies and get up to all sorts of shenanigans. Like that movie with Jodie Foster? Yeah. Panic Room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set mid season 2. Written with LolaInk

Kurt sighed, fingers smoothing over the emerald pendant. Fabulous! It would look amazing with his Christian T'one blazer. Oh, and he could wear it tonight on his date with Blaine! And--  
  
"That is darling!" Rachel cried, coming up behind him. "It would just-- Kurt? It's stuck on your fingers." She gave a tug. "Still stuck."  
  
"It's not stuck! I am  _holding_  it."  
  
"Kurt!" She smiled brightly. "C'mon. Please? I've had the worst month in forever and this would cheer me up."  
  
"You? You've had a bad month? Seriously? My bird died, Rachel!"  
  
He pulled at the chain.  
  
"It wasn't  _your_  bird--"  
  
She pulled it back.  
  
"And now I'm back at McKinley! Away from Blaine, and stuck with Karofsky. Oh, and your pleat skirts! Do you know how heart wrenching all that is? How self obsessed are you? "  
  
He gave a rough jerk.  
  
"Well, Kurt Hummel! I think  _you’re_  the self obsessed one! Everything’s always about you being gay and how  _hard_  it is for you to having a doting father who gives you whatever you want and friends that stick by you! I have two gay dads, you know. They don’t whine as much as you! But I'm  _constantly_  victimized, even by the losers at this school! For goodness sake, I'm stalked by Jacob Ben Israel!" She snatched at the chain. "Not only that, but Finn is avoiding me, Quinn keeps smirking at me, and Mr. Schue is borderline bullying me. You want pain?  _Try being me!_ "  
  
 **SNAP**  
  
"Oh, shit."  
  
"Are you gonna, like, pay for that?" They both looked up at the cashier, who was chewing gum with a bored expression. "Because my boyfriend is coming by soon and I wanna close up early so no one catches me giving him head in Children's Toys."  
  
Kurt blinked. "What?"  
  
"Uhm...excuse me, but this is broken. I mean, it’s clearly defective and I don't think its very wise that you are selling damaged goods."  
  
"This is a thrift store, lady. Either pay up or get out."  
  
"Well, I think that's just--"  
  
"Rachel, come on." Kurt slammed the pendant down on the counter. "Thanks but no thanks." He gave the pendant one last mournful look as the cashier slipped it back underneath the display counter, coiling it to disguise its broken chain. With a sigh he shoved Rachel out of the doorway and onto the street.

 

 

 

  
**DAY 1**

  
  
Barrie Berry smiled as he cleaned the plate.  _What a lovely day,_  he thought as he looked out the window, humming along to the radio.   
  
 _"ARGGGHHHHHH!"_  The dish clattered from his hand as he heard his daughter, Rachel, screaming in a rather masculine fashion. _"ARGGGHHHHH!"_  
  
"Rachel?" Fear clutching at his heart he ran from the room, taking the steps two at a time. "Rachel?!" he cried flinging open her bedroom door. "What is it?"  
  
She spun around, her mouth agape and eyes wide. "Who the  _hell_  are you?!"  
  
"Did you have a bad dream, honey? Was it the one where you miss a step during _Mein Herr_ and fall off the stool?"  
  
"Dreaming? That's it! I'm dreaming!" She turned to the mirror and slapped herself hard. And again. And again. "Hmm, that is a painful and strangely satisfying. But I'm not waking up!"  
  
They  _really_  should have had that psych exam on Shelby Corcoran.  
  
"Rachel! Stop that! You're going to bruise!"   
  
"Look! I have a--" She pointed at her groin. "And I have these!"   
  
"Well,  _barely_ \---"  
  
"What am I  _wearing_? Is this an heirloom? How is it managing to cover  _all_  my skin?"  
  
"Rachel---"  
  
"Stop calling me that! I'm Kurt! Kurt Hummel!"  
  
"The kid from your class that is obsessed with you? And can't sing?"  
  
"What?" She clutched at her hair. "Oh, my God. Why is this so thick? Does she inject kelp?"  
  
"Is this PMT? I've read about this."  
  
"Don't be stupid! I am not on my perio-" Her eyes grew wide and she looked down at her lower half in horror. _"ARGGHHHHHHHH!_  That is disgusting!" She ran to the bedside table, snatching up the cell and biting on a fist. "Her phone! I can call me! Yes!"  
  
"Er---"  
  
"Get out! Get out! I'm making a private call! God, how rude are you?"  
  
"Ah, okay, dear. I'll, er, come check on you later."  
  
Hiram backed out of the room as his daughter tapped her foot and continuously,  _angrily_ , grabbed at her crotch.   
  
Sometimes he wished they'd gotten that yacht instead of a baby.

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
Burt Hummel was an understanding man.   
  
The first time he heard his son ask for a pair of sensible heels instead of a fire truck for his birthday, he had shrugged his shoulders and searched for a pair of Princess Belle jelly wedges  _without_  marabou feathers because  _“They’re silly, Daddy!”_  
  
When Kurt had told him that he was straight and into Mellencamp, well... he knew he was lying, but when Kurt was ready to accept himself again he would be there with open arms to tell him it was alright.  
  
But having his 16 year old son in a heap on his bedroom floor blubbering, wailing loud enough to scare a banshee and pulling open the waistband of his pajamas, only to scream and clap a hand over his eyes again, was more confusing than anything he could ever have imagined.  
  
“Oh, my god, oh, my god. Santana was right. I  _was_  born a man. Oh  _God_. Is that what they look like?” he whimpered. Peeking through a gap in his fingers he peered inside his pajama pants a second time. “Oh, God! OH,  _GOD_ , WHY DID I LOOK AGAIN?” Kurt screamed and threw himself into his rug, pounding the floor with his fists. Burt rapped on the door to get his attention.  
  
“Kurt? What’s wrong? You’re being kinda loud.” Kurt’s head snapped up, eyes wide and red, and his jaw dropped.  
  
“ _KURT?_   WAAAAAUUUGHHHHHHAAAAA!” He screeched, scrabbling at his face with his hands. “Mirror! I need a mirror!” he spluttered, grimacing in a really odd fashion. Burt stared, scratching the back of his head. “NOW Mr—” Kurt hiccupped and sniffed loudly, “—I mean, Dad. Please.” Burt frowned. He was really going to have to start laying down some ground rules for Kurt, he was getting a bit too big for his boots.   
  
Crossing the room to Kurt’s dresser, he handed him a small mirror on a stand. Kurt snatched it eagerly from his fingers and stared at himself for about 3 seconds before throwing it away in disgust. Or was it fright? Burt looked at his son, arms now wrapped round his legs, rocking backwards and forwards.   
  
Oh, no.   
  
He had read about this in those pamphlets Kurt’s guidance counsellor had given him  _‘So, Your Son Likes Cher’_  and  _‘Boys Will Do Boys_ ’, Kurt had obviously been pressured by the media and gay culture into believing he was fat. He crouched down next to his son and squeezed his shoulder.  
  
“Kurt?” He sobbed louder at the sound of his name. “Kurt-- are you suffering from Body Dyslexia?”  
  
Kurt’s crying trailed off into snotty spluttering.  
  
“I--ah--what?”  
  
“I read about it. The magazines, the male models, the fashion designers, that Jake Clippers... you know? From those Scissoring Twins--they’ve given you a negative body image and you think you’re fat. And/or ugly.”   
  
Oh God, his poor kid. He wanted to punch the person that put these ideas in his head. Was it that curly haired slut that came loud-mouthing about sex? Burt clenched his fist at the memory.  
  
“Do you mean dysmorphic?”  
  
“Same difference.” He shrugged absently. “Is that what this is about though? Because I gotta tell you, Kurt. You’re a good looking kid.” Kurt looked up at him with those blue eyes, his cheeks streaked with tears and smiled. See? He had a good looking kid; he would defy anyone to tell him otherwise.  
  
“No... no. I don’t think that...” Kurt’s bottom lip trembled again he threw his arms around Burt, almost knocking him over.  
  
“Oh, Daddy!” He hiccupped into his neck, sniveling slightly.   
  
“Are you going to be okay? Should I get you something?” He unpeeled the sobbing Kurt from around his neck, shooting him a worried glance.  
  
“Some water?” he asked, wiping his face with the edge of his sleeve. “I’m thirsty.”  
  
“Okay.” He smiled sadly and nodded towards a pillow that was quietly singing about how it wanted his love and revenge. “Your phone is ringing, by the way.”   
  
Kurt’s eyes widened and he scrambled onto his bed and picked up the phone; on seeing the name, his eyes narrowed and he jabbed wildly at the screen.  
  
“What have you done to me, you horrible little man?” he snapped into the phone, before promptly bursting into tears again.  
  
Burt’s jaw hardened.  _Definitely_  the curly-haired slut.

 

 

 

**DAY 2**

  
  
Finn winced at the bright burst of light that bitch slapped him across the face.  
  
"Ahh! What the fuck?!"  
  
"Rise and shine sleepyhead!" Kurt trilled, throwing back his curtains. "Time to start the day!"  
  
"Kurt?"  
  
"Morning!" Kurt sang, and flopped himself down on the bed next to Finn. Man, he was practically vibrating he was so cheerful. Finn was certain that wasn’t normal morning behavior for anyone but birds.  
  
"Kurt...what are you doing in my room?"  
  
"Nothing! I mean, why do you ask? I wasn't doing anything wrong. Just...coming in to wake up my favouritest brother!" Kurt scrunched up his nose and bumped a tentative fist against Finn's shoulder, beaming.  
  
Finn stared back, confused."Riiiight..."   
  
Was it just him, or was Kurt grinning kind of...what was the word he taught him?  _Maniacally_. Kurt was grinning maniacally.  
  
"I mean, it wasn't like I was watching you sleep! Ahahhaha!" Kurts laugh was high and kind of frantic. "Wouldn't that be funny? No, no. I wasn't doing that at all." He cleared his throat; eyes darting across the room.  
  
"Why did you come to wake me up anyway?" Finn rubbed his eyes; he was starting to feel like Keanu Reeves in nearly every movie he'd ever made. Apart from Bill and Ted. No, especially Bill and Ted.  
  
"I don't do that?" Kurt's brows knitted together slightly.  
  
"No, you... don't."  
  
"Well it’s about high time I started! What kind of a brother would I be if I didn't bother to brother him. Brotherly brother...love. Love for your brother. Platonic. Completely platonic, brotherly love." Kurt was wandering round his room now, absentmindedly searching for something.  
  
"O...kay?" Seriously, what was up with him? Yeah, Kurt had taken to bringing him a glass of hot milk at night, but that was comforting (and delicious). This? This was just kind of creepy.  
  
Kurt whipped round and held up a bottle of lotion in his hands. "Who wants their morning rub down!"  


 

 

 

**DAY 3**

  
  
  
Mercedes frowned as Rachel sat down next to her with a big grin. "Hey, Mercy!"  
  
"Are you lost?"  
  
"What? Oh! Oh. No, I was just--" Rachel smoothed down her skirt. Her stylish skirt. "Felt like sitting here!"  
  
"You look good," Mercedes said before she could stop herself. "Is that--"  
  
"Vivienne Westwood? Yes. And notice the lack of knee high stockings? I no longer look like a Japanese businessman's weekend secret."  
  
"I like it." Mercedes nodded. "You look like Kurt dressed you."  
  
"Hahahhahahah! No. No. Although. That boy has taste and the skin of a dove." She shook her head. "I took yesterday off and went shopping with one of the dads cards. If I'm going to be stuck in this body I'm going to make it look divine."  
  
"Kurt, no offense but could you stop following me. And hugging me. I don't think brothers hug like that. With all the grinding? Let go of my leg!" Finn cried as he entered the choir room, shaking the boy off. "This is worse than the massage."  
  
"Oh, my God. I can't believe it!' Rachel muttered. "I'm going to kill her!"  
  
Mercedes turned to her, eyebrow raised. "What? You're going to kill who?"  
  
"Er-- Er-- Santana! I'm going to kill Santana." The girl turned round at her name. "Yeah, _you_! I'm going to kill you, bitch tits."  
  
"Rachel! That's enough!" Mr. Schue said shocked.  
  
"Yeah, Rachel," Kurt hissed as he took a seat. "That's enough." He made a cutting motion across his throat.   
  
Rachel smirked. "Mr. Schue! Mr. Schue! We all know I have the second to best voice in the class, after Kurt's and--"  
  
"I disagree!" Kurt snapped back. "I vote you best. I barely compete."  
  
"Oh, no-no! You're too kind. I sound like a garbage disposal being stabbed by a gargling gorilla. You sound like an airy angel. And you're so attractive."  
  
"Stop it! Please. I sound like a woman in the throes of child birth! And I look like a gnome, but you! You are a Goddess!"  
  
Mercedes blinked. What in hell was going on with these two?  
  
"Guys?" Mr. Schue, shook his head. "Can we start the lesson?"  
  
"Stop stroking my thigh, Kurt!" Finn snapped. "Not cool."  
  
"That bitch is going to pay," Rachel muttered. And Santana moved down two seats.   
  
"Rachel? You okay?" Mercedes asked. "I'm finding you strangely likeable today. And I really want to punch Kurt."  
  
"I'm fine." Rachel stood up and walked primly to the front of the room. "In fact, I would like to sing a song and dedicate it to you, my fellow glee clubbers. I hope you enjoy it." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and let out a soulful wail, hand raised in the air and eyes squeezed shut.  
  
 _"Oohhh stick yooooouuuuu your maaahaaaaamaaaa toooo-hooooo and your, your daaaa-haaaa-deeeyyyyeeehhhehhhhh."_  
  
Tina tapped at Mercedes shoulder. "Is she singing Daphne and Celeste?"  
  
Mercedes shook her head. "I think-- I think she-- Oh, my God! I think she is doing a mash up!"  
  
 _" U.G.L.Y. You ain't got no alibi! You ugly! Hey! Hey! You ugly. U.G.L.Y. You ain't got no alibi! You ugly! Hey! Hey! You ugly!"_  
  
Mercedes had to admit, squat thrusts aside, it was pretty catchy.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" Kurt was on his feet now. "Actually, I want to sing a song."  
  
"Kurt, you can't just interrupt like that," Mr. Schue leant forward and mouthed "Thanks, though."  
  
Rachel sniffed, and placed a hand on her hip. "Oh? Well I'm sure whatever you sing will sound amazing no matter how ridiculous the song. You just have that range, Kurt."  
  
Kurt smiled graciously. "This is a song I wrote just this morning. I'm sure you'll be more than a little moved." He turned to the group, taking a big breath. _"Look at me, I'm Kurt! I'm really dummmmb and I wiiish I was as good as Rachel la la la!"_ He twirled round and wriggled his rear at the shocked glee clubbers  _"But I'm nooot because I'm a stinkyyy boyyy and my face is too small!"_  
  
Finn clapped "Dude, that's such a good impression! Of, er-you."  
  
"Stop jiggling!" Rachel snapped. "You're stretching the seat of those jeans! They cost more than your future children’s therapy will!"  
  
 _"Ner, ner, ner! Ohhh, I like fashion and booyyys! I'm so uniiique! Everyone look at meeee! Look at my butt, look at my butt!"_  
  
"It doesn't even rhyme!" Rachel shoved him hard in chest. "And I- you don't sound like that!"  
  
"Yes! I do! Don't I, Finn?"  
  
"Yeah, he kind of does."  
  
"He was talking to Finn, Mr. Schue!" Rachel huffed, crossing her arms.  
  
"Do you realise I had to get up a full hour earlier just to pour myself into these ridiculously tight pants? I used an entire tub of Vaseline--  
  
"That's not what it's for!"  
  
"--and I had to shave my insanely hairy legs. Is your real father Robin Williams? I swear I made a small family of foxes homeless."  
  
Rachel gritted her teeth. "You shaved--? Fine, right. Perfect! Well, I got up early so I could Google how to insert a tampon--"  
  
"Rachel!" Mr. Schue interrupted. "Maybe you should sit down."  
  
"--and I'm pretty sure that I lost my virginity to a piece of cotton. You're welcome. I'm pretty sure that's me set until college." She turned to the class. "I've been leaking from an open wound for two days. How have I not bled to death."  
  
Mr. Schue whimpered.  
  
"Well, I had to get up even earlier to brush my teeth, it took me that long to find them!"  
  
"There is nothing wrong with your teeth! Least they are regularly maintained! Unlike my gates to hell. I swear I saw the kid from  _The Secret Garden_ wheeling around in there."  
  
"Rachel!" Mr. Schue gasped. "Pull your skirt back down."  
  
"Oh, my God. Stop talking, Kurt! I mean Rachel." He began stamping his foot. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!'  
  
"Kurt!" The teacher turned to him. "What is the matter with you today?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue. I was recently diagnosed with penis warts. I guess this is a side effect."  
  
"Ah.' He nodded sagely. "Been there."  
  
"Hey!" Rachel spun on her Manolo heel and went to push at his shoulders, stopping before her hands made contact. "Wait. Take off that blazer so I don't crease it."  
  
"Oh? You don't want to damage this?" Kurt's hands wandered down his chest, and then his eyes narrowed. He clutched at either side of the labels, tugging with an almighty rip. "Oops!"  
  
"Argh! Did anyone see where that button went? You little bitch!" Rachel snapped. "You-- you--" She slapped herself hard. "Ha!"  
  
"How dare you!" Kurt retaliated by smacking himself across the face, leaving a huge red welt.   
  
"Don't! That skin bruises like a peach!"  
  
Kurt smiled. And backhanded himself again.  
  
"Go on, Kurt! Kick your own ass!" Puck yelled out. "Yeah, boy!"  
  
"Guys! Stop!" Mr. Schue made a dash for Rachel who had her hands buried deep in her own hair, grasping and pulling as she span round screeching in pain. "Quit hitting yourself! Quit hitting yourself!"   
  
Mercedes gasped, hand to her chest in horror. "Kurt! No!"  
  
Rachel, tangled in Mr. Schue’s arms, looked up. "No! Don't!"  
  
Kurt, hands joined in a fist above his head, nodded in a maniacal fashion. Then brought them down and punched his own groin with all his might.  _"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_  
  
Mr. Schue released Rachel with a deep sigh. "Puck, could you take Kurt to the school nurse? Rachel? Go wait for me in the principal's office."  
  
"That better still work," Rachel muttered at a writhing Kurt before flouncing from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**DAY 4**

"Kurt," Blaine coughed. "It's not that I'm not appreciative it's just-- touching your boob isn't as exciting as you seem to think it is. Thanks, though."  
  
"Come on! I know you want to." He pouted and wriggled his eyebrows. "I know I drive you  _wild_  with desire."  
  
Blaine cringed backwards into the mattress as Kurt straddled his lap and began to loll his head. "Kurt! Aren't you going a bit fast? Stop that! Your neck is clicking!"  
  
"Oh!" Kurt grabbed at his hair. "I forgot about this K.D Lang 'do. Trust me. When one has long dark tresses, like Rachel Berry, that is a terribly arousing experience."  
  
"I'm sure--no, I believe you. You can stop rubbing your hair in my  _mmpph_. Pah pah! Sorry, I got some in my teeth."  
  
"Blllllaaaaine! Come on! Make out with me! I need to get even with Ku-- I mean. I need to get my gay on."  
  
"Can't we just talk about our feelings?"  
  
"That again? I get it. Dead bird is sad and I move you. Awesome. Let's make out."  
  
"Kurt, I'm serious." Blaine gave him a narrow look. "I want to talk."  
  
"This was easier when I had a vagina," he muttered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing! Nothing! Fine! Feelings. Go. I should be good at this. I have a lot of experience with the feelings of homosexual men. Mainly paternal ones."  
  
"You mean Burt is--? Never mind." Blaine shook his head. "Listen. I want to talk to you about dinner. You were pretty rude to the Warblers."  
  
"When? When was I rude?"  
  
"Well, you kept telling them that Rachel was better than them all and made fun of them for rehearsing in a library. And you kept calling Trent, Fatty Warbuckle. That was kind of mean."  
  
Kurt snorted. "He thought it was cute! Anyway, I couldn't remember his name!"  
  
"You couldn't remember any of their names! You gave them  _numbers_. Jeff was pretty pissed."  
  
Kurt sighed. "Oh, that is _so_ like number 7. Temperamental."  
  
"Kurt! What is with you lately?"  
  
"Me? What's the matter with  _you_? I can't believe you don't want to make out with me! It must be the hair. I know it makes me look like I just fell out of _Goodnight, Mister Tom_ , but I don't know how to use all that product. I mean, I have tried but it was  _so_ New Romantic, you know?"  
  
“I-- didn't understand any of that. And your hair looks great! I just-- Your dad is only downstairs, Kurt. And I don’t think he likes me much as it is.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“He told me. And then he gave me an IOU that simply said  _‘one beating’_ "  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes. “That’s just his way. That’s all. I’m sure he likes you. He even asked me to invite you to dinner so he could show you his tyre iron. That’s nice, right?” He tightened his grip around his neck. “C’mon. Kiss me, Blaiiiine."  
  
Blaine sighed, his mouth curling into a smile. He raised a hand and cupped the back of Kurt's head, bringing his lips to his. They could sort this out later, he was tired of arguing and he didn't want Kurt to lock himself in his room and start crying again after that joke about Rachel's jaw. God, he had felt  _terrible_. Kurt was such a loyal dear friend to take such things to heart.  
  
The kiss felt. Familiar. But not Kurt familiar. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. His other hand wandered down the other boy's back, resting gently at the base of his spine. Should he risk even lower? Was Kurt ready for that yet? They hadn't been dating long and Kurt was just so moral and so sweet and so --  _hello_!  
  
"Oh!" Kurt pulled back and looked down at his lap. "Look! Look! I'm--  _excited_!"  
  
"Er, I can see." Blaine swallowed thickly as Kurt began to pat at the bulge his trousers in a strange fascinated delight. "Maybe we should stop before-- _argh!_ "  
  
"Doesn't it feel weird?"  
  
"Could I have my hand back, please."  
  
"Oh! That feels nice!" Kurt's eyelashes fluttered shut. "Do that again."  
  
"Kurt!" Blaine hissed. "Your dad is downstairs!"  
  
"What the--" Kurt glanced behind him. "You're excited, too!"  
  
Blaine gritted his teeth. "Which is why we should stop. You aren't ready for-- OH! OH, MY GOD. Stop grinding!"  
  
"Does that feel good? Flip over and you do it on me."  
  
"Kurt!"  
  
"Blaine!" Kurt mocked. "Don't be a spoil sport. I'm doing it for you."  
  
"I-argh-- I--" Blaine's eyes rolled into the back of his head. "I know you are. But you should stop!"  
  
"Wow. I knew girls wanted sex as much as boys, but I didn't know boys could be so averse to sex!"  
  
"Please stop saying sex," Blaine gasped his hands tight on Kurt's hips.  
  
"Oh! Are you a Christian?"  
  
"No, it's not tha--"  
  
"Frigid?"  
  
"No!"  
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Straight? I knew it! Rachel  _did_  turn you! I cannot say that I'm surprised as she is quite the beauty, and terribly talented. That explains it! Fred Phelps should recruit her. He really should."  
  
"Oh, God. You are not going to make me watch all those Youtube videos of her again are you?" Blaine shook his head. "No, listen. I'm not a Christian, or frigid or  _straight_! I just don't want you to do anything you're not ready for!"  
  
"I'm ready. Trust me. My body is ready. What do you want me to do, Blaine?" Kurt asked his voice thick with lust. "I can do anything. And not be impregnated. Isn't that  _awesome?_ "  
  
"Jesus. What was in those pamphlets?" Blaine stammered as Kurt pushed him backward onto the bed. "Wait--" Oh, but how could Blaine think when Kurt's hands were snaking up his shirt and travelling over his skin, when his lips were whispering against his ear lobe, when his erection was rubbing into his hip.  
  
"Tell me what you want, Blaine."  
  
"I want--"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I want-"  
  
"Tell me!"  
  
" _Iwantyoutogodownonme_ ," Blaine hissed out. "Please."  
  
"Sorry, I didn't catch that?"  
  
Blaine pressed himself up onto his elbows, blushing furiously. "You know?" He indicated downward with a tip of his head.  
  
"No.” Kurt gave a shrug. “I’m not following."   
  
"I want you to-- To give little Blaine a special hello. With your mouth."  
  
"With my mouth? I don't underst-- Oh, my God! You want me to give you oral stimulation?!"  
  
"Er--"  
  
"I'm not putting your willy in my mouth! That is so unhygienic! I thought you were a nice boy!"  
  
"What? You mean  _ever_?"  
  
"Finn would never ask me to do something like that. Honestly, Blaine."  
  
"Wait? Why would Finn ever be  _in_  the position to ask a question like that?"  
  
"I mean sure, I've had to pull his hand out of my panties now and then but--"  
  
"Your panties? What do you mean?" Blaine's face paled. "You and Finn?"  
  
"Pft, yeah." Kurt sat back, staring down at Blaine like he was stupid. "He broke up with me because I kissed Puck. I can't believe he spent all that time chasing me when I was dating Jesse and-- _OOF!_ \-- Blaine! That hurt! You don't just throw people off your lap and--"  
  
"I can't believe you." Blaine said, tears in his eyes. "You are-- you are not the person I thought you were!"  
  
"You got that right. Listen, Blaine Warbler--"  
  
"No!" Blaine wiped at his teary face with his sleeve. "I think we should split up."  
  
"Ohh! No! He will kill me!"  
  
"Who? Finn? Or one of your  _other_  illicit lovers?!" Blaine clenched his fists. "I can't believe I let you touch my boobs!" He burst out before jumping up from the bed and running from the room.

 

 

**_DAY 5_ **

  
  
**Welcome to Facebook! Connect with your friends.**  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  just finished an entire Dominos and is now working his way through a pack of ding-dongs! A moment on the lips...  
 **Mercedes Jones**  likes this  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  Oh, this is so on.  
  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  is now friends with  **Jacob Ben-Israel**  
 **Jacob Ben-Israel**  
SHAKING AND CRYING RN  
  
  
 **Jacob Ben-Israel**  to  **Rachel ★ Berry**  
Can I just say how much I appreciate your facebook videos, Ray-Ray. (Can I call you Ray-Ray? Now that we're bffls and everything it seems appropriate to have special names for each other. You can call me J-Bizzle!) I'm so happy I managed to rip them. I mean, I have them on mute but I *really* enjoy them. Moar!  
 **Kurt Hummel**  
OH MY GOD, YOU CREEP! DIE ALREADY! And delete those videos off your hardrive.  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**    
I'll trust you to be nicer to my friends, Kurt. J-Bizzle is just voicing his appreciation for my talent.  
 **Jacob Ben-Israel**  likes this  
  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  is touching herself whilst looking at pictures of Barbra Streisand  
 **Brittany Peirce**  likes this.  
 **Santana Lopez**  
And you had the nerve to call me a Rosie O’Donnell?? Bitch, watch yo back.  
 **Quinn Fabray**  
TMI RACHEL!!!  
 **Jacob Ben-Israel**  
PICS OR GTFO!  
  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  wants to be just like Snooki from Jersey shore, so he’s getting a spray tan!  
 **Puck ‘BaDa$s’ Puckerman**  
Kurt u no wat time it is?  
 **Kurt Hummel**  
4:09?  
 **Puck ‘BaDa$s’ Puckerman**  
ITS TSHIRT TIME!  
 **Sam Evans**  and  **Finn Hudson**  like this.  
 **Sam Evans**  
T-SHIRT TIIIIIME!  
 **Finn Hudson**  
T-SHIRT TIIIIIIMEEE! YEAHHHHHH!  
 **Sam Evans**  
YEAAAAH!  
 **Puck ‘BaDa$s’ Puckerman**  
YEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  is auditioning for Sesame Street  
 **Brittany Peirce**  
Good Luck, Rachel!  
  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  is jealous of  **Rachel ★ Berry's**  vocal range  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  kicked a cat for fun  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  thinks Lady Gaga is overblown and pretentious  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  made out with a hotdog  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  is too gay to function  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  was born with neonatal teeth  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  doesn’t _have_ teeth  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  has just got the STD test results back :(  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  peed himself in kindergarten, remember that?  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  cried at the beginning of Finding Nemo  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  has a receding hairline  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  sees Mr. Rogers as a style icon  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  is upset he wet the bed again  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  has the legs of a praying mantis  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  has a flat butt  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  slept with a nightlight until she was 14  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  just set fire to his tiara collection.  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  didn't realize how much fun you could have with a banana  
  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  changed his  **[profile picture](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Qn6Z4PdzE1M/S79zG7FZBqI/AAAAAAAAASw/8lJeHXl-DGM/s400/Toothless_dragon1.jpg)**  
  
  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  changed her  **[profile picture](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b-pdlECKJj0/TXm1wBI5GRI/AAAAAAAAAMg/XeTQMmfknrc/s400/Gyarados_Hyperbeam_Attack.jpg)**  
 **Kurt Hummel**  ... I don’t get it.   
  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  has ended his relationship with  **Blaine Anderson**  
 **Wes Leung**  
Dislike!  >:|  
 **David King**  and  **400 others**  like this  
 **Jeff Riker**  
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! D’:  
 **Rachel ★ Berry**  
WHAT.  
 **Trent Pole**  
I’m so sorry to hear that, Kurt. Perhaps I should take you bowling to make you feel better?  
 **Thaddeus Amadeus Burton-Taylor**  
TRENT!  
  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  is now single  
  
  
 **Kurt Hummel**  is now in a relationship with  **Finn Hudson  
Finn Hudson**  
When did this happen?!  
 **Puck ‘BaDa$s’ Puckerman**  
Frape!  
 **Sam Evans**  and  **16 others**  like this  
 **Finn Hudson**  
Wait, what’s frape?  
 **Quinn Fabray**  
Oh, my G-d, Puck. That is so offensive. Like, you have no idea.   
 **Puck ‘BaDa$s’ Puckerman**  
Fine Facked. Dat n e beta? I dnt no wut da big deal is.  
 **Finn Hudson**  
But I didn’t fack anyone? Well, Santana but whatever.  
 **Puck ‘BaDa$s’ Puckerman**  and  **11 others**  like this  
 **Santana Lopez**  
Are you out of your mind, Gigantor? I rocked your world AND your man boobs.  
 **Kurt Hummel**  
Take your locker talk elsewhere you vile, diseased SLUT!!!  
 **Santana Lopez**  
Alright Hummo, don’t get your dick in a twist.  
  
  
 **Finn Hudson**  is now in a complicated relationship with  **Kurt Hummel**  
  
  
 **Blaine Anderson**  is now in a relationship with  **Rachel ★ Berry**  
 **Blaine Anderson Sr**  likes this  
  
  
 **Inbox: Jesse St James  
To Jesse St James from Rachel ★ Berry**  
  
Dearest Jesse,  
I know it has been a long, long time since we were last on speaking terms with each other, and I am sure you have greatly missed my intense physical presence as much as my strangled-kermit voice and twiglet legs (I remember how they used to drive you wild with desire). So I—in my magnanimous grace, have decided to forgive you for the way you treated me last year. Forgiveness is something I have learnt from my two gay dads.   
  
Whereas I can only think your fellow glee clubber’s need to smear my not-remotely-annoying face with chicken foetuses stemmed from their jealousy of my singing talent, I know that you must have been under extreme pressure to appear as cold and heartless as the rest of them. I understand the desire to fit in- I have two gay dads.  
  
Oh, how I have missed your tiny, tiny button eyes and the silken feel of your chocolate tresses against my lily white shoulders on an evening spent in a lukewarm, sexless embrace. I can only imagine the soul wrenching pain you’ve had to endure being away from me. Hush my sweet prince, the pain stops now.  
  
I have heard you are coming home for the weekend and think we should meet and rekindle the tempestuous flames of our romance, before I find another man to sink my claws into. Probably someone else’s boyfriend. Anyone’s. It doesn’t matter about their sexuality; I am too much of a special snowflake to respect boundaries.   
  
Please find attached several photos to ‘wet your whistle’.  
  
Forever yours,  
  
Rachel Berry.  
PS— I have two gay dads.  
  
  
 _Jesse’s eyes widened as he clicked through a collection of photos depicting Rachel in various states of undress. Rachel rolling around in cornucopia of stuffed animals, clad only in an excessively large pair of white panties. Rachel in a leather catsuit unzipped to her navel, rubbing herself against the poster of her bed. Rachel in a pleated skirt and kneesocks, licking a shoe. A Croc to be precise. God, they got more outrageous and contained fewer clothes with each picture. And the_ faces _she was making! Jesse couldn’t tell if she wanted to seduce him or flay the flesh from his bones to make a soup._  
  
  
 **Sent: Jesse St. James  
To Rachel ★ Berry from Jesse St. James**  
  
Rachel,  
As much as I appreciate your efforts at an homage to Vanessa Hudgens, this is a letter of cease and desist.   
  
Whereas once upon a time I would have completely tapped that (and I do not deny that your spindly, birdlike legs did rouse my ardour), seeing you topless for the first time has lead me to realize what a lucky escape I had. It’s very hard to be aroused by someone who has the pectorals of The Rock. Sorry, that was harsh. Ryan Reynolds. You have about as much sex appeal as Jack Black in a leading role.  
  
Here at UCLA (that’s what we students and alumni call the University of California, Los Angeles) I am absolutely dripping with young, hot talent that want to tread the boards with me, the boards of my bedroom I mean. So I don’t need any more offers from you.  
  
So stop it.   
Sincerely,  
  
Jesse  
  
PS-  
Do you still have the purple monkey key ring I won for you at the arcade? I want it back.  
  
  
 **Inbox: Jesse St James  
To Jesse St James from Rachel ★ Berry**  
  
Dear Poor Man’s Cary Elwes,  
  
How dare you! How dare you! You beady eyed little luvie. You were privileged to go out with someone so far out of your league and talent zone! Privileged! Listen to me, if you ever, ever go anyone near Rachel Berry again. Well—see attached link.  
  
Kisses,  
Rachel “The Best You Never Got” Berry.  
  
  
 _Jesse squinted as he stared at the screen. What was that in Rachel’s hand? Oh! It was Mr. Bananas! She_ had _kept him! But—what was she_ doing _Jesse tilted his head slightly, focusing on the--_ OH, MY GOD. OH, MY GOD _. What the hell? Was that blood? No! That was unholy! And you couldn’t do that with a household appliance! Oh, dear God in heaven. Why? Why_? _  
  
Pushing himself backward from the chair, Jesse barely made it to the bathroom before he was re-introduced to his Caesar salad._


	3. Chapter 3

 

**_DAY 6_ **

  
  
Karofsky shot a quick glance round the corridor. Okay, they had let him back in but that didn't mean that his ass wouldn't be gracing sidewalk if he stepped out of line. He had to lay low and he had to make sure Hummel kept his mouth shut. God knows that was hard enough. The kid was like Kathy Griffin, always honking away in the background about some shit that no one cared about. And he was always just  _there_ , flaunting himself like a street-corner hooker, making him look. He was getting riled up just thinking about him wriggling down the hall in those tight, tight jeans.  
  
Riled up because he wanted to punch him; not because he wanted to, you know, tap that or anything.   
  
The coast was clear. No one in sight other than him and the Diet Rupert Everett. There he was now, spinning like a ballerina and frowning. "Ergh, this body has  _no_  natural grace."  
  
God, did he ever stop being a fairy for, like, a minute? Like when no one was looking did he slip in a quick Bud and watch a spot of football? Fuck that action. Karofsky couldn't stand him. He  _really, really_  couldn't. Just because he had kissed Hummel, no, just because Hummel had kissed  _him_  didn't mean that he was like  _that_.   
  
He wasn’t.  
  
He approached silently as the other boy continuously tried to balance on his tiptoes, cursing under his breath each time he flopped back down.  
  
"Hey, Hummel," he hissed. "Need to talk to you."  
  
The boy turned, well pirouetted, and to his surprise there was a distinct lack of fear in those eyes. Just anger. Not that Karofsky would ever admit it, but that was a little disquieting.  
  
"What do you want, Karofsky?"   
  
Karofsky prodded him in the chest with a stubby finger. "Just want you to know that just because you're back doesn't mean it's over between us. Watch yourself. Got me, daisy?"  
  
"Oh, for-- What is your problem with Kurt?" He sighed, and pushed at his bangs in annoyance. "Just leave him alone, you overgrown DNA cell!"  
  
"You know my problem." Karofsky checked around him once more. "Did you tell anyone?"  
  
Hummel squinted in confusion. "Of course he-- I told! Everyone knows what you did to him- I mean me."  
  
Karofsky felt like he had been punched in the gut. "You said you wouldn't tell!" He gasped. "You promised."  
  
"Okay, I'm confused." Hummel frowned, wiping some imaginary lint from the shoulder of his reindeer sweater. "Could you please specify the exact issue to which you are referring?"  
  
"The issue that I’m--  _That I kissed you!_ "  
  
"Oh, I haven't told anyone that--what? Wait! You kissed Kurt?  _Kurt_. You!"   
  
"Keep your voice down, Hummel!"  
  
"This is outstanding!" He began to bounce up and down while clapping excitedly. “Are you dating?”  
  
“What?”  
  
"No, wait. I'm not sure I approve of this. No offense but Kurt can do better. Like, a lot. Have you  _seen_  Blaine?"  
  
"Shut up about your preppy boyfriend! And why the fuck are you talking like Dobby the house elf?”  
  
“Jealousy, I see.” Hummel gave a solemn nod and closed his eyes. He rested an understanding hand on Karofsky’s shoulder. “Kurt and Blaine are together, Karofsky. That’s just the way it is. In fact I went beyond the call of duty for Kurt on that one.” He pulled his face and then reached into his jacket, retrieving a small item. “Stick of gum?”  
  
Karofsky slapped it from his hand. “I’m not jealous and I'm not a queer!" This must be some sort of smart ass trick. The little shit was making fun of him! "Watch your damn mouth!"  
  
"You watch yours! You're the one planting them on everyone." Hummel stepped closer and peered up at him, eyebrow raised. "How did it even work? You don't appear to have any lips."  
  
That was it!  
  
Karofsky grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him hard against the lockers, pressing his face up against his. "Don't mess with me, fag!"  
  
There was fear now. That was good. But also- a sadness. Not that he hadn't looked like he was going to cry before. He looked like he was going to cry when he was damn happy, he just had one of those depressing fucking faces, but this was a new kind of sadness. It was somewhat overwhelming. Karofsky gave another shove and stepped away from him.   
  
"You kissed him? And Kurt didn't say anything?" he asked in a small voice.  
  
"Good. Keep it that way."  
  
"He just lived with it all this time." Hummel's voice began to get louder. "And left all his friends, his whole life and went to Dalton, just so you could have tea with Mr. Tumnus?"  
  
"That the wood shop teacher?" Karofsky glanced around him, worrying at his lip. Something was off here. Something was seriously messed up. Oh, fuck. He must have hit his head on the locker. Hummel was concussed! That was it! Shit! Shit!  
  
"You nasty, horrible, self hating little man! How dare you do that to Kurt!"  
  
"Dave doesn't-- I mean I don't have to listen to this. Stay out of my face, Nancy." Karofsky spun on his heel and began marching away before he lost his cool and did something stupid like hit the little freak.  
  
Or,  _kiss_  the little freak.  
  
He swore that kid was like the homo Death Star, pulling him in with his fag-tor beam. He just needed to put as much dist-- was that footsteps? Furious, pounding footsteps that--  
  
"OW! Get off me, Hummel." Karofsky tried to shake the other boy off his back. "Stop it! Stop nipping! Ow, ow my hair!"  
  
“Like you even have any, Rogaine!” Karofsky felt Hummel’s nails bite into his scalp. "I've seen better hair on a grape!"  
  
“ARGH! That  _hurts_!”  
  
"Not so tough now are you! Teach you to pick on Kurt!"  
  
Christ. He'd gone nuts!  
  
Karofsky ran face first into a locker as Hummel's heels began to paddle into his thighs and, Jesus! Was he  _biting_  him?   
  
"Let go!"  
  
"Not until you promise to leave Kurt alone!"  
  
"My eyes! I can't see--ow! You're twisting my ear!"  
  
"Promise! Or, I'll tell everyone!"  
  
"Arggghhhh!" Karofsky span round and whacked his hip into the fire extinguisher. "Get off! Get off!"  
  
"Promise, Ludo!"  
  
"Okay! Okay! You fucking mentalist! I promise! I promise!"  
  
The other boy dropped down off his back and grinned at cowering Karofsky, red faced and hair in disarray. Any other day, Karofsky would have found it disturbingly hot. Not today. Now all he could think of was the whole school knowing that he had kissed a boy. He’d be kicked off the football team! Hudson would know that he stared at his dick in the shower! His dad would find his GQ magazines and Hummel would be there, forever laughing in his face, and no amount of fist shaking or shoving could ever make him stop.  
  
"Just one more thing." Hummel took a step towards him and Karofsky flinched. "In case you forget."  
  
"What?" Karofsky said as he backed shakily away, his fingers feeling over the scratches on his neck. "What the hell do you want now?"  
  
"This is for Kurt." Then he delivered a swift, hard, brutal kick to Karofsky's gnads.

* * *

 

_**DAY 7** _

Kurt Hummel struggled to loosen the duvet's hold and stared up at the ceiling. He needed out of this body. And not just because of the rather creepy habit Rachel's Dads had of tucking her in every night, no. He just needed out.  
  
He sighed heavily, and chewed at his bottom lip. Okay, it had been alarming at first, and then a little bit exciting with all the pranks and Jesse St James' nervous breakdown, but it was time to go back to being Kurt Hummel. Oh, God, what if this, whatever it, was never resolved itself and he was stuck in this body forever?  
  
It wasn’t that Rachel’s life was any tougher than his, or that she was any more miserable, it was that they were miserable in the same way; and if Kurt was going to be stuck feeling miserable for the rest of his life, he’d rather have a penis thank you very much.They both felt overlooked and underappreciated, and where Kurt constantly had to deal with cheap jokes at the expense of his sexuality and clothing choices, Rachel had to deal with the same, just at her personality. And her clothing choices (but honestly, hers begged to be torn apart).   
  
He thought back to the message he had sent Jesse. What had he been thinking? That humiliating Rachel would do what? He was supposed to be her friend but he had been too wrapped up in his own problems to think about just how deeply that could have hurt her. Rachel may be bossy and demanding, but Kurt saw how those snide comments and barbs hurt her. He knew exactly how low her self-esteem was, despite what she would have you believe. Kurt got hassled for being gay, Rachel got hassled for being _Rachel_. He had thought it was completely different, but now he realized it was the same. A part of you, you can’t change; a part of you that you shouldn’t  _have_  to change. God.  
  
He finally felt like he understood what it was to be Rachel Berry.  
  
Well, except for  _one_  thing.  
  
No! He couldn't. Could he? No! He even closed his eyes his eyes when using the bathroom! He had fallen in the shower at least twice this week.  _And_  he had purchased one of those Comfort Wipe things off of QVC so he didn’t have to touch anything  _weird_. He could hardly start experimenting like that. Kurt didn't even like girls for goodness sake.  
  
Then again. That was before he  _was_  one.   
  
He gave a cursory glance around the room, blushing at the accusing eyes of the assorted teddy bears.  
  
“What are you looking at, Tenderheart? Pervert,” he muttered as he slowly drew a hand up his (newly bought, you're welcome, Berry) Gucci pajama top and ghosted his fingers over his stomach. Okay. That wasn't so bad. Try higher. Higher. And cup. This wasn't so bad either. He could pretend that he was feeling up John Travolta or something. Oh, wait. Too generous. Make that Val Kilmer. His thumb brushed lightly over the peak of a nipple and  _Oh!_  A jolt of electricity ran through him, making his skin tingle and his hips jerk upward. Well,  _that_  was unexpected.   
  
Right. Now lower. Lower. His fingers slipped into the shorts, under the panties and nestled in the curls there. It wasn’t so bad; it was kind of like petting a small dog. A Maltese or a Bijon-Frise? No, that didn’t make it any more appealing. Wait, weren’t they supposed to be sort of  _feline_? Would that make it sexier? Okay, a--a--Persian? Kurt patted the small mound of hair.  _Nice_ Crookshanks. Don’t bite.  
  
He took a deep breath and moved a little further, brushing against the, the-- _lips._  
  
Oh, God! Abort! Ew! Ew! Why was it  _moist_?!   
  
Kurt couldn't! Even if they were  _his_  parts they were still  _girl_  parts and they freaking him out! He sat back up in the bed and poured a generous dab of anti-bacterial lotion into his hand. Scrubbing violently like a Shakespeare villainess.   
  
What had he been thinking? He couldn't violate Rachel's privacy like that. She sure as hell wouldn't be doing the same to him. Shaking his head he turned over and pressed his face to the scented lavender pillow.  _Thank God_ , he thought,  _that Rachel is just as much of a prude as I am._  


 

* * *

  
  
Rachel Berry’s wrist was in danger of becoming dislocated. How did boys get anything done? Knowing they could be doing this every day, every minute?  
  
Throwing back her head, she ground her back into the mattress as she worked her length, her other hand pressed deep inside her. Fingers rubbing against that  _amazing_  little bundle of nerves. Oh, she had nearly jumped through the ceiling when she found out about  _that_. Finn hadn't shared her enthusiasm, advising that he was glad Kurt had found it, he hadn't realized it was lost and could he please get the hell out of the shower cubicle because Finn could loafer his own back, thank you. Well, his loss. She could show Blaine instead, now that he had agreed to date Kurt again. Honestly, some people were  _so_  sensitive.  
  
 _Hmm, Blaine._  There was a nice thought. Those thoughts became images and Rachel gasped as she came for, what? The seventh time? She fell back onto the pillows with a happy sigh.  _This must be how Stephanie Myer felt when she wrote Twilight_ , she thought, pushing back hair off of her damp forehead. Kurt was going to be really mad when he saw all the chafing, but it wasn't her fault she was in the body of a sexually charged teenage boy! It was her hormones, that's all.   
  
It had been an odd week. Terrifying and weird and--  _revealing_?  
  
 _Poor Kurt_. She frowned as she thought of all the shoves and knocks he took every single day of school. She had never realized just how much he had to do just to have the strength to be himself.   
  
Rachel turned over in the bed, hugging the covers to her chest. She had underestimated Kurt, she really had. They were hardly that different at all, and he was a lot braver and more dignified than she had ever realized or given him credit for. If she ever got back into her own body she was going to make an effort to show him how much she appreciated what he had gone through and who he was as a person. A human being with a soul and feelings.  
  
And a body. Her hand began to slide down her chest towards her groin.   
  
Just  _one_  more time.   


 

* * *

  
  
The cashier sighed as she turned the pages, hearing the door clang open to reveal a new customer.  
  
"--you seriously want to get Brittany something from a second hand shop, Quinn? Why don't you just give her some used gum off the bottom of a bench?"  
  
"It's  _vintage_ , Santana, and no one invited you along," the blonde girl, Quinn, snapped back. "You're free to shop for a birthday present on your own, you know."  
  
Teenagers. Self absorbed little fuckers. Speaking of--  
  
She leaned forward and looked at the emerald pendant under the glass counter. The newly  _fixed_  emerald pendant.  
  
 _Looks like the kids from last week are waking up in their own beds this morning,_  she thought with a smile.  _Perhaps with a better understanding of each other. And maybe with a little less fucking whining._  
  
"Can I see that, please?" The one named Quinn was in front of her, nail against the glass.  
  
"You look with your eyes," she said, glancing back down at the magazine. Jesus, Jennifer Aniston really needed to get over it already.  
  
"Er, hello?" The other girl appeared at Quinn’s side, arms crossed and a seething attitude dripping from every pore. "You needs to get that trinket out and you needs to get out now or I'm on the phone to your manager and your ass is out the door. Okay?"  
  
The cashier blinked slowly at the dark haired girl, whose lip was curled into a sneer.  
  
“Today, please?”  
  
 _Oh yes, this one definitely needed to be taught a lesson_ , she thought. Coiling the chain around her fingers, she pulled the necklace out from under the counter and dangled it in front of the two girls, the pendant resting on the back of her wrist.  
  
“Buck fifty,” she sighed wearily, snapping her gum.  
  
"This is perfect for Brittany!" breathed Quinn, taking it from her gently. The dark haired girl’s eyes glinted and her hand snatched at the pendant.  
  
"Yeah, she'll love it!"  
  
"Er, Santana? I found it?" The blonde frowned, fingers curling tightly around the chain.  
  
"And thank you, I'll let Britt know you helped." Santana smiled and gave a tug. "Let go, Quinn!"  
  
"No! I found it! You didn't even want to come in here! You said that it was full of dead skin and skid-mark covered clothing.” Quinn spat out. “I'm not giving it up!"  
  
"Why? Because it's not a _baby_?"  
  
Quinn gasped. “How dare you throw that in my face! You have no idea how hard that was for me! How hard all of it was. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what—“  
  
“Is this going anywhere or should I keep an eye out for a Luck Dragon?” Santana rolled her eyes and pulled the necklace towards her.  
  
“Give it back!” Quinn retaliated with a yank of her own. “It’s mine!”  
  
The cashier sighed as she watched the chain snap once more.   


 

**The End.**


End file.
